


Cold

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Dom Hux, sub Kylo [29]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Ice. Love.





	

Kylo’s hands are bound, above his head, his shoulders stretched out before him as his blindfolded eyes blink down at the bed he can’t see. His weight sits on his shins, from knee to toe, as his ankles are lashed to the bed. He can’t move more than the lightest of sways as he’s pulled between the chains and cuffs that bind ankle and wrist, kneeling upright, held.

The pressure on his shoulders is exquisite and slow, the kind that just stretches to begin with, but starts to burn and howl when it never lets up. He can’t see a thing, and the only senses left are his ears, his skin, and the Force. 

His hair is twisted up and clipped to the back of his head, leaving his neck bare and open. _All_ of him is bare, but he feels it most, there. Feels the whispered breath when Hux kneels behind him, hands testing the position, checking his fingertips for circulation. The heat against his back, and the tickle over his bare soles. 

Hux slips from the bed, and Kylo whimpers despite himself.

“Hush, pet. You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?”  


He nods. He will try.

The room is warm, but he still feels a little chill of it, unclothed as he is. He spends so much time swaddled that when he’s nude, if Hux isn’t there to keep his core temperature up, he feels it. Right now, he can sense his nipples hardening as if looking for the thermostat, and he bites into his lip.

“I want you to stay completely quiet. Can you do that for me?”  


Kylo likes to think he is quiet in bed, but he knows he isn’t. He’s a moaner, and a beggar, and a whimperer, and a screamer. Keeping quiet will be difficult, but that’s what Hux wants, so he nods.

“Good boy.” A thumb across the nape of his neck, swiping.  


Kylo nearly disobeys, his lips parting to a sigh that he gulps back inside. The heat of his hand is delicious, and he just wants to arch his back and offer his body whole, but the restraints make it impossible, and so he turns the noise inwards, pushing out from his inner ear to make the air thunder over the drums. 

THRUM. THRUM. THRUM. A yawn without his mouth opening, a rush of air. THRUM. THRUM. THRUM.

“Not even a gasp, not even a sigh. Can you do that?”  


He’s not sure, and indecision freezes him.

“You’ll do your very best,” Hux concedes.  


That Kylo can agree to, and he nods. THRUM. THRUM. THRUM. Fingers to thumb, toes wriggling. Stillness - true stillness - is hard for him, but he can contain his need to fidget to set places, set valves that blow off the excess steam. Hux knows he finds it difficult. Hux also knows he tries his hardest, or so Kylo likes to think.

He listens to Hux retreat, and then come back. He’s not sure what this position is in aid of, but it could be flogging. It’s only his shoulders that are really accessible, his butt isn’t presented well enough for a caning or a cropping. What he isn’t expecting is a sudden shock of purest fucking _death_ that touches the back of his neck, and has him yelping and thrashing at his bonds in shock.

A hand grabs his ponytail, the one pinned up, and holds his head still. “I said: silence.”

Shitfuckdamn. Yes. Right. Silence. He nods again, prepared this time. The cold comes back, and lingers right at the base of his skull. Cold from the icecube shocks into his head, like he’s sucked up a slush-ice too fast, and he _grinds_ his teeth almost to the dentine at the pain and shock of it. 

Damn, damn, damn, damn.

Hux slides the cube lower, following each bump in his spine. Kylo _arches_ both into and away from the chill of it, feeling it spread out through his back like deathly, beautiful poison. Webs of frozen fingers, all shrouding him, cloaking him in a chill more real than the vastness of space.

At least there, there is no sensation. Here… he can’t hide from a single nerve.

“Good boy… such a good boy. Keep still for me. So beautiful. My pale prince…”  


Kylo does not feel that he is good. Even when there’s two points of ice on him, drawing over his skin. He knows without looking that the cubes are melting, leaving rivulets that drip down over his torso to the bedding below. Knows, because they don’t quite numb him enough. He imagines the way the droplets catch the light, the way his skin goes iridescent with liquid, and holding onto that image helps with the very real threat to his heart still beating. (Or so it feels.)

“ _Exquisite_ ,” Hux breathes, and then pushes one cube between Kylo’s legs.  


Despite himself, he wriggles. He can’t help it. It’s too cold, and the threat of it over his hole is too much, and the melt of it against his balls makes him want to kick or scream.

He does not scream, but he tries to lean away from the pain, and he just has to trust Hux won’t freeze his balls off, or burn his sensitive skin. 

The icecube is replaced by something else. Minty, cool, and slippy. He recognises the tingling lube just before it slips inside, and the fresh burn is enough to have him shove his mouth around his arm, biting his own flesh to stay silent.

Hux’s fingers punish him open, and the tingling is more like being murdered by a thousand tiny sabers. He’s not sure how many fingers enter him, but then there’s something cold. Cold, but not ice. Solid… transparisteel? His hole clenches around it, his passage tightening to greet it, and he chokes himself silent when he realises he’s being fucked with a chilled toy.

Hux has never used one on him before, not a cold one. Not one this rigid and unyielding, either; they normally have some realistic give to them or another, and the sensation makes him think of his saber-hilt, even if it’s smooth, and not deadly. Kylo can feel every one of his top teeth in his tongue, knows the curve and gaps and flaws as he breathes through his nose and takes the slow reaming as Hux doles it out.

“So ready, so eager. So willing to submit to me, aren’t you?”  


Nodding.

“So happy to give me your body, to trust me with your life. To let me give you pleasure…” and then a sharp twist and an angled thrust - “…or pain.”  


It does hurt, but not too much. Kylo sways on his knees, scratches with his toenails. He wants so much more, but Hux… isn’t there yet. The toy works him harder, and his cock rises hopefully before him, stabbing at the air.

 _Please, please, please_.

“What was that?”  


Did he speak aloud? He doesn’t think he did.

“Precious boy, _what was that_?”  


 _Please. Please fuck me. Please. Make me yours_.

“Do you think you deserve it? Do you think you deserve my cock inside of you?”  


I was quiet. I was quiet. I tried.

A hand - gloved - across his throat. The toy still works, and Kylo is in heaven. Kylo is _in hell_.

“Pretty little thing… do you?”  


 _No_.

“Really?”  


No. No. No. Kylo does not deserve anything. He suddenly tries to buck free, but the hand on his throat and the dildo in his ass both still, and there’s weight and pressure around him, holding him.

_No, no no no no no no–_

Lips at his neck, at his ear. The toy falls out, and Hux’s cock is freed. He thrusts up, and in, and Kylo’s eyes roll sightlessly back into his skull. It’s so warm, so hot, it burns with how alive it is, and he makes a terrified mewling noise.

“You are,” the words whisper, kisses punctuating beyond the necessary amount. “You are worth it. You do deserve it. You’re such a good little thing, always so eager to please.”  


He is that. He is eager to please. He is not good, and he starts to cry with the frustration. _Bad bad bad bad bad bad bad._

“Such a caring, loyal pet. So good for me. So loving. So kind, and generous.”  


Not him. No. Hux is fucking him slowly, and Kylo wants it to hurt again. Hurt he understands. Hurt he _deserves_. This he doesn’t, but… he wants to. The fucking is agonisingly slow, and then the cuffs on his wrists are unfastened, and he drops forwards obediently, onto his forearms, keeping his ass lifted.

The change in angle means Hux can drive deeper, can stroke those places inside that belong only to him. Kylo feels owned, all the way through, and he shudders in delight.

_Yours. Yours. **Yours.**_

“Do you deserve this?” Hux asks, a hand on the back of his neck, the other curled around Kylo’s cock.  


_No._

“My beautiful boy, _do you deserve this_?”  


“Y-yes,” Kylo cries, breaking under the affection, remembering Hux knows best, and he does not. His heart opens to the love, the trust, the safety. His body welcomes him in, and rides the wave of his arousal, lost and aimless and guided only by the man who loves him so utterly.  


Hux fucks him hard, and sweet, and Kylo is ripped in two.

“ _Good boy_.”

Kylo is. He is a good boy. He’s Hux’s good boy. He’s loved.


End file.
